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Lilly is actually speaking to me again. Not criticizing me or complaining about my behavior. She is actually speaking to me in a friendly manner. She’s saying through the stall door that she’s sorry for laughing at my hair and that she knows she’s controlling and that she suffers from a borderline authoritarian personality disorder, and she says she’s going to make a concerted effort to stop telling everyone, especially me, what to do.

Wow! Lilly is admitting she did something wrong! I can’t believe it! I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!

She and Tina want me to come out and hang out with them. But I told them I don’t want to. It would be too awkward, all of them with dates and me by myself like a big dope.

And then Lilly goes, "Oh, that’s okay. Michael’s here. He’s been hanging around by himself like a big dope all night."

Michael Moscovitz came to a school event??? I can’t believe it!! He never goes anywhere, except to like lectures in quantum physics and stuff!!

I have got to see this for myself. I am going out there right now.

More later.

Sunday, October 19

I just woke up from the strangest dream.

In my dream, Lilly and I weren’t fighting anymore; she and Tina had become friends; Boris Pelkowski actually turned out to be not so bad when you got him away from his violin; Mr. Gianini said he was raising my nine week grade from an F to a D; I slow-danced with Michael Moscovitz; and Iran bombed Afghanistan, so there wasn’t a single picture of me and Josh kissing in any newspaper on the newsstand, since all the papers were filled with photos of war carnage.

But it wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a dream at all, none of it! It had all really happened!

Because I woke up this morning with something wet on my face, and when I opened my eyes, I saw that I was lying in the spare bed in Lilly’s room, and her brother’s sheltie was licking me all over my face. I mean it. I have dog spit all over me.

And I don’t even care! Pavlov can drool all over me if he wants to! I have my best friend back! I’m not going to flunk out of ninth grade! My dad isn’t going to kill me for kissing Josh Richter!

Oh, and I think Michael Moscovitz might like me!

I can hardly write for happiness.

Little did I know when I came out of the girls’ room last night with Lilly and Tina that all this happiness lay in store for me. I was morbidly depressed—yes,morbidly. Isn’t that a good word? I learned it from Lilly—over what had happened with Josh.